


Rules to be broken

by MissisJoker



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissisJoker/pseuds/MissisJoker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a vampire requires following a set of rules. Brad is not very good at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so if you see any mistakes or have suggestions/ideas that can help me improve writing- please, poke, I'll be forever grateful!

Bradley Colbert, a war veteran and a ladies man, returned from his last deployment, got into a bar fight with overwhelming force and died of inflicted injuries at the age of 28. He had been mourned and forever remembered by his comrades and family.

It happened almost two centuries ago and still, Brad wondered how he got himself so deep into this shit.

 

When Sergeant Brad Colbert came back from 1812 USA-British war, he found his family house cold and desolated- his bitch of a fiancée took off with a guy who promised her eternal life and youth in exchange for her blood. What she clearly didn’t expect, with all her romantic ambitions and all, that the guy had at least five other whores stock piled in his slut house, and instead of being a mistress the one and only, she became a part of a big happy harem. As miss Wednesday. Or Thursday, not that it matters.

Anyway, when Brad finished putting together smithereens of what’s left of his broken heart, he hunted the lovebirds down and killed the guy because vampire or not, you don’t fucking lay your hands on something that belongs to Brad ‘Iceman’ Colbert and live happily ever after.

He didn’t hurt his ex though, because being raised as a gentleman, he doesn’t hurt women, children, or anyone else considered defenseless. It’s just unworthy of his warrior spirit.

So, his dearest girlfriend was left in peace to enjoy her eternal life and suffer from non-existent consciousness. She died the following spring, when an angry mob set her on fire allegedly for witchcraft.

He didn’t live to see the spectacle though since he was killed a day after their last farewell in a stupid bar fight. When he woke up in a coffin, all vampirised and completely disoriented, he concluded that he should have stayed in the Corps in the first place, because at some point the shit pouring on his civilian head by far exceeded the e amount acceptable even for a US marine.

It later turned out that the bartender in a saloon where Brad met his death hour was a closeted vampire that in his upsurge of greediness decided to feed on the fallen soldier, but was not careful and infected the body with V- virus. You see, the vampirism is like gonorrhea- one careless movement in a haze of pleasure and you’re facing a whole list of unwanted consequences.

The bartender was nice enough to teach a newly turned Brad some of his infinite wisdom before kicking him out into the afterlife : some of the rules proved to be useful and veracious, some of the rules were to be bent and forgotten in the years to come.

When Brad finished his vampiric training, he left his city and got busy with gore stuff, like disposing of criminals. He managed to make quite a reputation for that one.

And then he got bored.

The mind can play a cruel joke with you sometimes.

And so, Brad found himself enlisted in military again. The easiest way to fight off the loneliness is to be bereft of any imaginable privacy among the crowd of US Marines.

The easiest and, more importantly, legitimate way to get access to killing people is to become a machine of skirmish legalized by US government. Not only you get to quench your thirst for blood, you also get praised and paid to do so.

After all, Brad chose a hunting nomad’s austere life over the solitude of a dead nobleman.

It seemed only logical.

 

 

Yes, you could definitely write a novel about his philosophical explorations, make a name, become a millionaire and even self-produce a cheesy movie for teenagers.

Brad shivered off last thought, stopped contemplating and came back to reality . His team’s humvee, one of many, was stuck in the middle of nowhere in the smelliest armpit of the world. The platoon left Baghdad two days ago and now was waiting for the shining moment when idiots form up above would finally decide what shithole they have to uncloak next.

The camp was quiet. In the driver’s seat Ray was dry humping somebody in his sleep. Trombley was petting his weapon, murmuring pleasantries and compliments under his breath, psycho. Walt was hanging out somewhere outside, probably counting stars in the sky.

 

 

Rule one: Vampires don’t make friends with humans.

 

It was based on the assumption that if you, being a vampire, let a human close enough, he will sooner or later realize that you are not so much alive after all. And of course, he will be terrified to death and will tell his buddies and you’ll end up overwhelmed by the sea of pitchforks and torches.

The rule worked well in Middle Ages, when people were so stuck up on religion that meat on Friday was a deadly sin and a burp after lunch was considered a sigh of perdition.

The problem with this rule is that when you’re blessed with eternity you end up being lonely and miserable, and mounting up the number of drunken confessions or fuck buddies doesn’t really help the situation. So, you’re left with a choice – either suffer your afterlife alone, afraid of everything more then the casual interaction, or get your shit together, find yourself a BFF and simply make sure you don’t get caught.  
Easy enough and works well if you’re cautious all the time. Plus today’s generation won’t even be scared if they were to learn about your vampiric self. You’ll probably be buried under fan girls’ underwear, accompanied by the chorus of squeals asking to show how you sparkle.

 

Brad spitted in disgust and shifted his attention to inside of the Humvee, where Ray was going on and on about pussies and beef jerckeys and gladiators and some other shit that, as always, didn’t make any sense.

Yep, that was his current BFF. Not that Brad would ever confess that to anyone- it would sound so gay…

But he would look after the pot-cracking idiot and make sure he stayed safe from hostiles and from his own shit brainery. (The coffee maker incident doesn’t count- Brad totally saw it coming but decided not to interfere- it would have made him a freaking mother-hen for Ray – and he had a manly reputation to maintain).

 

“Will you sing a lullaby for me?”

Brad snapped out of his thought, frowned and peered into two dark eyes focused on his forehead.

“What?”

“Serge, can I shoot him?” Trombley sounded off from behind.

Like a big dysfunctional family.

Ray stuck out his lower lip and made puppy eyes.

“Please, daddy! I can’t sleep on empty stomach and mommy isn’t home and…”

Speaking of.

“Gentlemen, good news- Lt. Nathaniel Fick popped up in front of the Humvee in his usual Batman manner; - we’ve got replenishment of meal supplies. Nothing special, but you might be interested after a week on Skittles and peanut butter.”

The green eyes turned to Brad and Iceman cast his LT a questioning look.

“LT, sir, you’re my superhero! – Ray bounced on the seat in excitement. - But how did you manage that? Not to be distrustful about your supernatural abilities, but how in hell did you shake up those fuckers in the Circus Battalion?”

“I used my inexhaustible charm.” The LT shot a blinding smile at Ray and took off.

Somewhere deep inside Brad’s brain wondered that may be, that smile was really all it took.

 

 

Rule two: Vampires don’t fall in love.

You see, vampires are very similar to Vulcans (and yes, Brad was once a Trekkie- it seemed very cool at the time). When you transform, you purge your human, emotional side, and turn into a cold-blooded machine that operates strictly on logic. You become much stronger, much faster then normal human, and you cease to feel anything that cannot be rationalized by what’s left functional of your brain. Love included. The only thing you don’t get is pointed ears, but that’s a minor detail.

So, when Brad first sees his new CO, Lt. Nathaniel Fick, he doesn’t feel love. Curiosity, want, need – but not love. Like a geek with a new computer- not love, just inexorable want to explore something new. 

He itches to snatch the LT from everyone, crowd him in some dark and intimate place, take him apart like a puzzle, learn all his secrets, brake him and leave him behind like an unwanted toy.

And when those bottomless green eyes meet his own, it’s definitely not love that makes him reconsider his plans. It’s not. It’s a totally logical choice of a gentleman who acknowledges his respect for another being.

Brad blames all on Nate’s eyes.  
Those unbelievably beautiful eyes that make Fick look like a cherub among the dirty bleating herd of God’s sheep. Not in a sense of an overweight toddler with wings, of course, Nate is nothing like that- all lean and graceful and strong and deadly- Brad can figure that much with his vampiric senses even with Nate’s clothes on- but in a sense of something pure and innocent being thrown into the dirt.  
To molest that altar boy full of idealistic dreams and hopes would simply be a blasphemy.

So, when Brad sets off onto a holy mission of protecting Nate’s purity, it is dictated solely by a logical choice. Brad is assured of this.

 

The next morning Brad saw Nate walking briskly from the Commander vehicle, flanked by always-so-loyal Mike Wynn.  
The Lt looked distressed, betrayed and completely lost, like a puppy that’s been kicked hard by his owner. Encino Man’s dirty work, no doubt.

When Wynn reassuringly tapped Lt on his shoulder, Brad gritted his teeth. The initiated touch bared nothing intimate, it’s just Wynn playing mother hen to his lieutenant, soothing and cooing him into something at least resembling peaceful state of mind, but Brad clenched his fists when a strange feeling shot through him like a burst of flame.  
It’s not jealousy, simply couldn’t be, since it required love in the first place and vampires don’t feel love, remember?

So, Brad settled with possessiveness. He has claimed Fick for himself the very moment they first met, and he likes this self proclaimed ownership, he likes his green eyed cherub only for himself, thank you very much. And when Iceman likes something, he doesn’t share.

Plus, Wynn’s way of dealing with Lt’s stress leaves much to be desired.  
It is completely opposite of what Brad would have done to protect his Nate- play bottom and passively ass-lick the superiors and only later, privately, try to comfort your friend, who like a freaking superhero tried to battle the overwhelming stupidity of command to protect his own men from getting fucked up –that’s not a way for a marine to roll.  
Not Brad’s way. He would not stand for this shit; he would probably just bite a couple heads off.

Good idea.

Brad’s eyes darted across the camp, scanning the field for Encino Man.

With one swift motion, undetectable for human eye, he bolted over the ground and cornered captain between the humvees, away from possible witnesses for said witnesses’ sake.

Captain startled in surprise

 

"Colbert?"

 

"You should stop doing that."

 

"What?"

 

Brad cocked his eyebrow. "Fucking with my Lt."

 

"Wha…" Encino man frowned, slowly processing, then gaped. " Mind your place, sergeant. Whatever happens between me and your LT is not your business…"

 

Brad tsk-ed and cut the distance between him and captain so they were face to face mere inches apart.

 

"I think you do not understand." Brad grinned, showing off a glimpse of his prolonged canines, and letting his pupils dilate, giving away his vampiric essence.

"Unholster your gun."

Captain’s eyes stared at him in shock while his right hand reached out for the gun.

 

"Now, put it in your mouth."

 

Captain obliged, trembling in terror, eyes glistening with tears.

Brad’s grin widened.

 

" Deeper." 

Iceman watched with grim satisfaction as Schwetje fucked his dirty captain’s mouth with his own fire weapon, gagging on it when he pushed it inside up to its hilt.

Brad titled his head a little.

 

"See how easy it is? You fuck with Nate one more time on any fucking reason, and I’ll make you castrate yourself with a Ka-Bar and eat whatever piece of shit you’re proudly calling your dick. Am I making myself clear?"

Captain nodded quickly, shivering and squeaking.

 

The stench of urine filled the air, and Brad wriggled his nose in disgust.

" Get lost."

 

Compelling is one of the v-features Brad liked the most. It made possible to bend and fuck anyone literally and figuratively speaking without them even knowing what’s going on. Like NLP, but 100% accurate and life-long effective. Plus, you never get blamed for it since the victim doesn’t remember the very act of compelling, only the aftermath.

When in the afternoon meeting Captain suddenly started to not only listen to the Lt, but concede to him on every point made with no apparent reason, leaving all the men startled and the Lt shocked beyond belief, Brad felt very satisfied with himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so if you see any mistakes or have suggestions/ideas that can help me improve writing- please, poke, I'll be forever grateful!

Rule Three: Vampires are always in control of their emotions.

 

It’s not even a rule, more like a basic condition for everyday survival.

 

While the existence of vampires remains hidden from mortal world, they maintain a low profile and try to blend in as good as possible. Like Recon marines on enemy territory- they are either an epiphany of stealth, moving like shadows in darkness and leaving no trace, or they are in a plain sight, looking like an average Joe you see in a supermarket, lazy and cocky and indifferent up until the very moment they put their hand on your shoulder and rip your head off.

 

The key to the survival is to be aware of surroundings and control your urges at all times, otherwise you risk immediate exposure and a shitload of problems following soon after that.

 

When the command finally made up its mind and gave the Bravo new orders, the Dogs wished it didn’t.

Turned out, despite of combined hopes of all at least a bit intelligent participants of the aforementioned meeting, the stupidity of the command was indeed limitless.

The platoon was sent out to storm into a heavily fortified city north east of Baghdad, which hadn’t been abandoned by republican forces yet, all by themselves, with no air or ground support or even fucking batteries for their NVGs.

 

Normally, the operation would consist of three steps: step one- send a recon group to get a full scan on enemy forces on the territory (and that the Bravo teams would be proud to do, that was what they were trained for), step two- call in an air strike and blow the shit out of bad guys, and step three- march into the city and wipe out any fuckers that were stupid enough to remain there after step 2.

 

Brad strategically positioned himself between Ray and Espera. It not only allowed him to study the campaign map in detail, but, more importantly, use Ray as a cover up while focusing all his attention on his main point of interest, who was now invitingly bent over the map explaining details of the mission.

 

When Encino man and Kasem finally left, the heated discussion erupted. Even before the platoon crossed the border Lt. Fick gave an unspoken permission to all his men to express themselves freely in his presence, the freedom they were now gladly abusing.

 

Brad didn’t bother listening to the blabber; he concentrated on Nate’s voice instead.

Steady breathing, every word, every syllable punctuated and pronounced flawlessly, the velvet harshness of the tone sending shivers down Brad’s spine.

It felt hypnotic. Colbert could listen to it for hours- memorizing every note, every hidden melody, ups and downs of the tone.

 

"Brad!"

 

He snapped out of the trance when Lt called his name.

"Are you listening? " Nate tilted his head in a way he did when he was worried or annoyed.

 

Brad smirked. "With all my might."

A sign of understanding washed over Fick’s face and his features relaxed.

 

"Don’t want to be a party pooper, sir, but isn’t it a complete suicide? "Ray chewed on his lip, eyeing the comrades.

 

Doc cast him a look.

" It’s Encino Man we’re talking about. He’ll get the whole battalion killed because of his sheer incompetence."

 

Espera looked at the LT.

" I aint getting my ass fried for his medal, dawg."

 

Nate sighed.

"It’s not easy to persevere with such…intricate orders, but it must be done nevertheless. Let’s hope there is a concealed sense in all this that we can’t comprehend yet. May be our captain has some information he can’t divulge."

 

Doc shook his head. "Yeah, like hell he does."

 

The LT pursed his lips. "There’s not much we can do. Just follow orders and hope for the best."

 

Ray shrugged.

"Or we can accidentally shoot him."

 

One part of the meeting laughed, the other shook their heads disapprovingly.

Brad quirked his eyebrow, and Ray shrugged in response. 

 

"What? Just sayin."

 

"Ray, " Nate turned on his “kindergarten mentor” mode, " I strongly advise you next time to keep certain …opinions to yourself."

 

Person pouted.

"Like you’ve never thought about it yourself."

 

Lieutenant sighed, like he was talking to a stubborn child.

" My thoughts on the subject are irrelevant, although I might admit," - he took a theatrical pause, " they are a bit more explicit."

 

Ray’s face lit up with a blazing smile – Nate was the only person other then Brad whose appreciation Ray was truly seeking, and God if getting it didn’t make him happy.

 

The party burst into laughter, and Brad took some time to bath in the warmth of Nate’s dazzling smile. The young Lieutenant was like a portable mini-sun, sharing his light and fire with those orbiting near him in the darkest hours of need.

 

"Ok, gentlemen, that’s it for now. Go get some rest, we Oscar Mike in 21.00."

 

The party split up and dispersed among the Humvees. As Lt caught up with Brad, Colbert instinctively slowed down to equal their speed.

 

"Any idea on why Captain Schwetje behaved so weird today?"

 

Brad did his best to look innocent.

" No clue, Sir."

 

Nate’s pale eyebrows went up in disbelief. Damn him and his incredibly sagacious perception of events.

 

"May be he got sun struck? " Brad offered apologetically.

 

Sun struck my ass. 

 

Brad stared at his CO- did he just really read Fick’s mind?

 

A pair of piercing greens was ripping through the layers of Brad’s fucked up woodland camouflage right into his soul. Seriously, 30 more seconds of that intense staring and he would crack and tell Lt every dirty little secret he’s got since he was born two centuries ago.

And then he’ll go and shoot himself out of embarrassment.

 

Then something changed, Lt’s attention shifted and he smiled shyly.

Brad just shook his head - it must have been him who got sun struck and was now imagining things.

 

"Stop by and see Rudy, he’s got batteries I’ve ordered for you."

 

Brad gaped.

"Wasn’t our shipment fucked up by FedEx?"

 

"It was. But I anticipated that much and duplicated the order."

 

Brad lit up with a smile.

"You’re spoiling me."

 

Fick bit his lower lip and fixed his eyes on Brad’s.

" I can’t send you into the hostile city blind."

 

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he’d been courted.

Brad leaned forward, drawn in by those green eyes. The color was warm, with traces of gold and amber circling around black pupils, full of emotions, curiosity, and passion. Fascinating.

 

"May I inquire how many asses did you have to kiss to get those?"

 

Nate smugly smirked, " A lot. " And hushed up as a Brad’s brooding form loomed over him.

Another staring contest ensued, then Nate tensed and quirked an eyebrow in challenge.

 

"Jealous, Sergeant?"

 

Brad moved in, closing the distance between their faces.

"Maybe I am."

 

His veins were boiling with anger; the only thought in his mind was mine, mine, mine! Those greens were driving him crazy, like a pendulum of a hypnotist, he couldn’t see anything else, he couldn’t think of anything else, Nate’s face was the only thing that existed for him.

 

Nate’s pupils dilated and his sun kissed skin flushed a little. Brad could sense the blood rushing through Nate’s veins, he could smell it through his skin, and it was intoxicating.

Nate licked his lips and Brad almost snapped, his whole body ready to leap at Fick and divulge him in all possible manners.

He wanted to crush his mouth onto those full soft and oh-so-kissable lips, bite in until Nate moaned in pain, mark him forever with bruises and love bites. And the only thing that kept him from doing so was Iceman’s unbendable will.

 

Nate stared at him and sighed.

" Maybe?"

 

Even Iceman’s will can crack.

Brad snarled, baring his sharp teeth, and launched at Lt, only to get interrupted mere inches from Nate.

Their eyes met and Brad backed off, ashamed and scared of himself.

 

The noise was getting closer.

They turned around simultaneously, and Brad would be damned if Lt didn’t look disappointed.

 

Cpl. “Manimal” Jacks rolled into the scene with a lower part of someone’s body squeezed between his mighty hands. The lower part was wriggling and trying to break free.

 

"What’s going on here?" Nate’s voice trembled a little and Brad felt another sting of guilt.

 

Manimal smiled apologetically.

"I’m sorry, Sirs, but this motherfucker tried to video tape me when I was taking a dump!" 

 

He moved sideways to let the leaders get a clear view at the rear.

It turned out the lower part of the body was attached to the upper part, and both of them combined belonged to no one other then Cpl. Culvert, all sweaty, face red with exertion.

 

Brad huh-ed.

" Lilley, what the fuck?"

 

Lilley gaped for air and croaked," It was Poke’s idea! He said we could make good money selling gay porn!"

 

Brad turned to Nate. Lt looked scandalized.

" I did not just hear this."

Then he turned around and walked away, shaking his head.

 

As the guys continued to tussle, Brad tried to comprehend what the hell just happened.

He snapped. He lost it. He should have stopped long before he came that close to attacking Nate.

No one ever made him loose control, nobody ever made him feel emotions so intense that they clouded his judgement.

He should lower contact with Fick to a minimum. He should stay away from those green eyes or it could end badly.

 

And yet there he was, looking at his side where Lieutenant stood a moment ago. Brad missed him already, he craved for his warmth, his smell, his mere presence. The empty space felt wrong, like a whole in the universe.

 

The very moment Brad realized that he knew he was fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so if you see any mistakes or have suggestions/ideas that can help me improve writing- please, poke, I'll be forever grateful!

Rule four: Vampire never succumbs to fear.

 

Because the one doesn’t feel fear. Fear is a product of hormones designed by Mother Nature to force a living being to fight for survival. Vampires are not living, and therefore they lack fear per se. plus, vampires are among the strongest, fastest and deadliest creatures walking the Earth. They don’t have natural enemies, because hardly any creature can compete with them- not werewolves, nor orks, elves, or faire. Well, may be dragons- yes, those ones could fry vampire’s ass in a split of a second, but dumb vampires are very rare and even a dumb vampire knows better then to fuck with a dragon.

 

Also, vampires don’t have personal attachments- those, which are responsible for “mommy instincts” in humans and animals. They might feel something reminiscent of those feelings when siring a new vampire, but it never lasts long – when an offspring makes his first kill, territorial instinct kicks in, and everything else becomes unrelated.

 

That’s why when Brad heard that call on the radio “Don’t shoot, Lt is foot mobile” several days ago, he didn’t feel fear, he felt anger. God, he was pissed- at his command for letting the whole platoon drive into ambush, at the White house full of morons for starting this bloody war, but most of all- at Lt for playing a fucking superhero and putting his fine, gusty, but stupid ass under the cross fire.

 

Colbert was naturally modest in his desires- a decent fight, a good rest, a nice fuck and an intelligent conversation will make do at most of the times.  
Would. Until he met Nate.

 

From that moment and on his newfangled and most vehement desire was to keep a certain Lt safe, away from any enemy forces, any eminent danger and preferably apart from the rest of the breathing population of earth. And every moment, every second Fick did his best to make that particular desire of Brad’s impossible to achieve.

Brad would love to kidnap Nate, drag him up in the mountains on the mid West, in that little hunters house Brad bought several years ago, sturdy and spacious, standing in proud solitude among wilderness. He would protect his Lt from the cruel world and keep him warm and occupied, and when Nate would fall asleep at night he would go hunt for food in the nearby forests, and in the morning bring the fresh kill back to the house and let Nate do the cooking.

Nate would have never agreed to that, however. His proclivity to being a fairy godmother to all the men in the platoon would probably make him protest and run away.  
Constantly.  
Not that he could outrun Brad- Lt is well trained, of course, and with human Brad the race would be close to even, but with vampire Brad he didn’t stand a chance.

 

That’s why Nate would outsmart him one day. Brad didn’t doubt that.

 

And that would lead them both to a chase.

 

Nothing arouses vampire more then a hunting spree, especially if the prey is worthy.

 

Brad would follow Nate’s smell, so sweet and intoxicating in the crisp stillness of the morning air, he would trace him down and catch him, forcing him to cease the struggle, though it might take a while- Nate can be stubborn and he definitely wont go down without a fight…

 

Colbert smirked at the thought.

 

Lt would probably curse Brad all the time, but a flood of profanities leaving that pretty mouth would only make Brad’s cock harder and god he knows how to put that mouth to good use…And when Nate would finally submit to him, he would fuck him senseless, pressing their bodies down to the dew covered grass, pinning Nate’s hands above his head, molesting his flushed skin with his fangs, riding him down in a steady rhythm…

 

Colbert swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the swollen bulge in his pants distracting him from the road.  
The dreams about Lt were very pleasant, of course, and rather entertaining, but they kept diverting his attention from the mission at hand. Lt’s overwhelming ever presence didn’t help the cause either.

 

You see, every vampire has a set of very acute senses to help him hunt, and the older vampire grows, the more precise his senses get.

 

Now Brad, being almost 200 years old, could smell and recognize every man in the platoon from his seat in the first humvee. He could even tell the level of agitation for each one of them, he could tell what they ate several hours ago, what tobacco they were chewing on, even the time when they last had a combat jerk.

 

You would probably find it utterly disgusting; especially taking into account the time between present moment and their last shower, but in a bigger picture it is all irrelevant. Just imagine- if you were a sworn vegan and you found yourself in a butcher shop on a warm day, when the smell of fresh meat lingers in the air like a layer of heavy mist, you’d probably throw up and pass out.  
Now imagine the same situation, but if you were a hungry dog. Or, even better, a hungry wolf.

 

The Lt’s smell is barely recognizable, thanks to the contrary wind, just like a slight hint in the cacophony of others, but even that hint is enough to make Brad half-hard and light headed.  
And that is very dangerous, because no team can have its forward observer befuddled with want while spearheading into the ambush.

Speaking of ambush.

 

Brad smelled them long before he saw them in the rifle scope- a group of forty men hiding in the bushes, all high on drugs and adrenalin, all smeared with a stench of some sort of religious oil, something fanatics use when they prepare to die and face their god.

 

Not good.

 

Brad tensed and concentrated more, sniffing out the information.

 

There were rifles, AKs, couple of triple A’s in Fedayeen arsenal, about four or five RPGs and some small caliber guns– it was all clear in the smell – sweat mixed with a hint of gun powder, leather straps, special lube based on goat fat, metal and dirt. But there was something else, heavy and menacing, looming in the darkness, something familiar but yet unrecognizable, and Colbert frowned, trying to determine the source of the smell, until it hit him.

"Hitman two, this is two one actual, they have T-72, I repeat, they have T-72!"

 

There was a static on the commlink, then bewildered voice broke the silence.  
"Interrogative, two one actual, who’s they?"

 

Brad cursed under his breath.  
"I have visual on 11 o’clock…"

 

That was when the hell broke loose.

 

They were surrounded, the advancement halted by a wall of simultaneous fire from three directions. The convoy stopped, forming a herringbone in the road, all teams engaged in battle in a split of a second, unable to move in any direction, busy with returning fire to enemy targets.  
And then the tank fired.

 

Brad instinctively looked away, preparing for impact that never happened.  
Damn Fedayeens and their lack of training!

 

The charge hit the dirt approximately 100 meters to the left of the nearest humvee. Not enough to bring any damage but obviously enough to scare the shit of the command.  
Brad watched with grim satisfaction as his shot hit the Fedayeen between the eyes, sending splashes of brains in all directions behind his head, when he heard it again.  
Captain Schwetje was foot mobile. No, he and Lt both were foot mobile.

 

Colbert froze.

 

When the tank gave a second volley, the fucking idiot of a CO sprang from his vehicle and tried to hide in the trench, calling for backup on DASC. And of course, Lt just had to run after him in a futile attempt to drag him back to the relative safety of the humvee.  
Encino man tried to call in an air strike- that was a brilliant idea, in fact, because no weaponry in the whole battalion could match the old soviet tank armor, and it would have saved the day, if only he hadn’t fucked up again.

 

He called in the correct codes all right, but this time he gave the wrong coordinates.  
Lt had no chance to stop him in time, because he had literally to shoot his way through the enemy to get to Schwetje. When he jumped into the trench and landed on the captain, it was too late.

 

The cobra gunship soared from up above and sent a missile to the coordinates provided by Encino Man, which happened to be his own present location.  
Brad watched, completely horrified, as a missile flew by his window, gradually descending, and hit the ground near the fifth humvee, right where his Nate was supposed to be.

 

It Brad’s heart was still beating, it would have stopped.

 

The shock wave hit them hard, shaking the humvees and throwing a cloud of dirt into their faces. Ray coughed and cursed profoundly, and then shut up when somebody on the radio shouted:

"Man down, we have a man down!!!"

No, no, no, shouldn’t be, it can’t be…

 

" This is two actual, Lt’s been hit, I repeat, Lt’s being hit!!!"

 

The dead silence fell on the battalion and everything intermitted for a second, like the whole group gaped in horror when their leader was hit.  
And then the pack got pissed.

 

The marines are called Devil Dogs for a reason. They are loyal; they are well organized and deadly.

When you cross a marine, your life becomes a living hell.

When you cross the whole pack, you don’t live long enough to wish you were dead.

 

Brad glassed the next target, pulled the trigger, and missed. For the first time in his 200 years long life, he missed.  
His hands were shaking, the whole body was trembling in horror, and the sense was overwhelming, maddening, his iron will chewed up and spitted out on the dirty Iraqi sand.

 

He wanted to bolt out of the vehicle, dart across the kill zone to where his Lt was, but…he couldn’t. He had three breathing persons next to him in the humvee, shocked and a bit scared, but persistently fighting back, whom he swore to protect, and no way he could abandon them in that skirmish. Plus, he might have been late all together. Lt might be dead, blown up into pieces and scattered around the desert because of a stupid mistake of his superior.

 

Brad fought off his thought and concentrated on the enemy, when he heard the cobra coming back for the second round.

 

Colbert mentally shut himself down, refusing to let go of his last hope and stubbornly battling the tears stinging his eyes.

 

There was no reason to panic though. The gunship flew low above the humvees, turned around and sent a missile right in the bulk of the T-72, blowing it up and sending scraps of molten metal in all directions like a firework that was followed by whistles and chorus of “get somes”. The pilot obviously had a hawk eye, or a set of Jedi powers.  
God bless American Air Force.

 

All was finished in less then three minutes. Marines in their righteous anger destroyed all enemy targets with extreme prejudice, methodically finishing off every single one of them.

 

And only then the crowd moved out to check on their Lt.

 

Brad smelled the blood in the air, Lt’s blood, and went ballistic. The unlucky ones standing in his way were unceremoniously shoved to the sides until he came face to face with a pair of bright green eyes glinting with shock.

 

Lt sat near the humvee, dirty and angry and covered in dust, surrounded by the whole battalion that came to his rescue. Not that he needed one, but still, that unspoken and  
unanimous display of affection from the whole battalion was breathtaking.

 

Brad leaned forward and brushed his fingers across Nate’s forehead, rubbing away a string of blood oozing from a deep cut just above the right eyebrow.

 

Nate pursed his lips.  
"I’m fine…"

Brad growled in anger.  
"Sir,"

" Let me through, you bunch of fucking pussies!"  
The Doc elbowed his way through the crowd and pushed Colbert aside, catching Nate by his chin and bringing Lt’s head up to assert the situation.

 

" I’m fine!", The Lt sounded pissed and tired.  
When the Doc shook his head and said, “You’re a fucking idiot”, Lt shrugged and sighed.

 

"Get back to your vehicles, we oscar mike in 3!"

 

Somebody in the crowd whistled in appreciation, and the battalion dispersed, amused and happy.

 

Brad was the last to leave, taking his time to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, that Lt was indeed alive and well.

 

Half way to his humvee Brad felt something slick on his fingertips.

Nate’s blood.

He stared at his hand incredulously, and then made a mistake all his senses were screaming not to make.  
He put his fingers up and licked the blood off.

 

It was unbelievable, like his whole body exploded, like he stepped onto the surface of the sun and was still alive. The desert burst into flames, like the darkness of midnight suddenly changed into midday, the shadows burning in flames and bathing in light, bright and blinding.  
Brad shuddered and gaped in shock, leaning into humvee to keep his balance.

 

He was covered in sweat, the whole body tense and aroused, and hungry…  
It took him a good minute to calm down, to regain something at least distantly resembling sanity.  
And when he finally recovered, the decision was made.

 

He will find Lt when they hit the base. He will drink him and fuck him and compel him to forget. And he will force him to leave the Corps when the first chance presents itself. When Fick will be gone for good, when he will be back to USA, safe and sound, Brad would be finally free of his obsession, of constant want, need. And of this maddening fear.

 

Or at least Brad hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so if you see any mistakes or have suggestions/ideas that can help me improve writing- please, poke, I'll be forever grateful!

Rule five: Vampire always gets what he wants.

 

It is an unspoken law of nature.

When a vampire sets himself on a goal, he charges onto it with zeal of a herd of wild buffalo, making the earth beneath his feet tremble and dirt, grass and small pests such as yourselves scatter around the road. So, you either give a vampire what he wants, get s far out of his way as you can, or solemnly prepare to be creamed.

 

There are, of course, certain exemptions. Some of the older and more sophisticated vampires consider struggle unworthy of their regal status, so, if you continue to fight them, they will retreat to shadows and simply outlive you. Because you’re temporary, and they- well, they have all the time in the world.

 

The platoon hit Tikrit early at dawn, alongside with another thousand marines and allied forces; this time attack surprisingly supported by LAV’s, birds and even Amtraks and widely covered by international media.

The city didn’t impress marines with its size, rather with its smell, coming from the sewer system that was meticulously bombed to shit the night before. The stench, intensified by the extreme desert blight, was so bad, that Brad even considered using his gas-mask.

 

It should be mentioned, however, that command, finding itself on the same depth in shit as their fellow soldiers- quite literally, by the way- displayed a sight of infinite wisdom and stationed the platoon in the outskirts of the city, on the river bank, on the way of life giving breeze, far from the main source of the odor.

 

They were quartered on the territory bordering the old mosque. The structure was abandoned long before the war, and was now half deteriorated, covered with dust and sand, but there still remained an echo of bygone magnificence in strong walls and lace arcs and sunlight glistening in the dome ceramics.

 

The territory was pretty safe, surrounded by a high wall and stone towers, now conveniently occupied by navy seal snipers who were methodically securing the area. All the populace had been disarmed; all the nearby structures were checked and re-designed for racks and command posts of forces seizing the city alongside the 1st recon battalion.

 

It was way too crowded for Brad’s taste, such a high concentration of assault forces on such a small territory sooner or later lead to blue on blue confrontations just because of the concentration level of testosterone in the air.

 

He wanted to get out of it, if not back to Oceanside, then at least to be on the move again, to get lost in the vast space of the desert, under the bottomless sky, followed only by the men he knew to respect.

The situation with the command was unclear, and all he could do was waiting.  
In the mean time, he had one very important thing to complete.

 

Before embarking on his mission, Brad took a good amount of time to work out a perfect plan of how, where, when and in what position he was going to corner Fick, suck him, fuck him and compel him to leave the military.  
That was the only option available for them two; Brad couldn’t allow himself to be so completely distracted in the middle of the war. And he definitely couldn’t allow Fick to risk his life again, no matter how important the reason was.

 

After making sure the kids weren’t going to kill each other just because Ray-ray run out of ripped fuel and was having a temporarily mental breakdown, Colbert extracted himself from the humvee and moved on to executing his plan.

 

And then the real cockblocking began.

 

It was not easy to get Lt alone for himself before, because Nate was all the time busy either trying to deal with dumbness of command, lessen the shit impact on his men due to the stupidity mentioned above, or simply trying to help his men in every way possible.

 

Now though, the situation was aggravated due to Lt’s newly obtained status of a battalion hero.

 

When the dogs learned that Lt risked his life, body-shielding Schwetje from fire and shrapnel during the previous night airstrike, the level of man love for him skyrocketed.

 

So, first thing in the morning he was crowded by a mob of loyal fans, some of which were trying to express their affections, some – get his attention or a piece of advice, some- to assure no shit would happen to him at least until they were on the move again.

 

The last reason prevailed in a matter of minutes. Now, the whole Bravo Company thanks to the lack of cohesive mission unanimously designated itself on babysitting their Lt.  
Brad had to give the man a proper respect for his self-control, it took Nate good 4 hours to finally crack and start loosing his temper.

 

Seemingly, the company had withdrawn itself as soon as the Lt started to freak out. However, marines are always marines; they never give up their target easily, so it very soon became clear that they simply changed tactics.

 

Now, instead of using the whole herd at once, they divided themselves in the groups of two and started to take rotations.

 

Although the whole situation amused Brad beyond words, especially the level of self-organization so carefully hidden in all of his men behind the façade of erratic activities, it also pissed him to no end.

Now Lt was under constant surveillance and there in no freaking way Brad would attempt executing his plan in the open.

 

So, he had to force grip his will and wait.

 

The opportunity finally provided itself when the Assassin Actual came back from the briefing and spread the word about possible location of Saddam.  
The battalion was given their first real reckon mission- with the most dashing objective ever- to swipe through the neighboring parts of the city, find and destroy enemy targets, snatch couple of Fedayeen and investigate the present location of Iraqi leader.

 

The Bravo team moved out as soon as the order spread, and Brad and Lt were among a group of six covering the northern sector of the Tikrit University area. When they approached the main campus building, Brad sent Poke and Rudy to two, and Walt and Q-tip to his 4 o’clock.

 

Usually that’s the order given by Lt, especially on the territory so unsafe and unchecked, and Brad pushed his luck by overstepping the protocol so boldly, but, being the best Team Leader of the platoon, he had a luxury to do so.

 

Finally, he and his main target were left alone.

 

As soon as the two entered a long desolated hallway and were completely out of sight, Brad leashed out and smashed Lt into the wall, catching him completely off guard by unexpected attack. He leaned along Nate’s body, getting as much physical contact as he could, using his height advantage to completely block away any escape routs his victim could think of.

 

Lt stared at him in surprise.  
"What is it? " his beautiful green eyes darted from side to side, quickly scanning the shadows, looking for the threat, then fixed themselves on Brad again.

" Do we have a contact?"

 

Lt looked completely innocent, utterly confused and unconditionally trusting, and Brad felt a sour sting of guilt for what he was about to do. He even considered an option to chicken out and refrain from violating Nate’s body and soul, but then, in the worst moment ever, Lt tilted his head questionigly and licked his lips.

Brad growled hungrily, his thoughts overpowered by lust and want.  
"We do, sir, but not the kind you’re thinking."

He pressed into Lt harder, pushing his knee between another man’s thighs, and bringing one hand up to trace his fingers along the perfect jaw line, caressing Nate’s lower lip, so soft and full and moist, with his thumb…The shorter man hissed in a breath.

"Brad, what the fu…"

 

Brad dragged Nate’s face up a bit, so their noses were almost touching, and closed in, baring his teeth, aiming at that luscious pink.  
Nate swallowed nervously and tried to catch Brad’s gaze to no avail.

" Do you know you have the most fuckable lips in whole 1st recon, sir?"

 

Fick freed one of his hands and pushed Brad hard in the chest, his frustration obvious in a deep frown and his lips, pursed into a thin line.

"If it is some sort of perverted bet you’re having with Person, I swear, I’m …"

 

Brad didn’t give him a chance to finish. He turned on his vampire mojo and charged at Lt, snaked an arm around Nate’s waist and hitched him up off the ground and back into the wall, positioning himself between Nate’s thighs and tearing Kevlar off the other man’s head, all in one swift and barely noticeable motion, and then crushed their lips together.

 

Nate tried to break free, struggling against Brad’s iron grip, moaning in protest while Brad was tonguefucking his mouth, biting and licking his way in. The struggle continued, until Brad pressed their foreheads together and let his thoughts pour into Nate’s head.

 

Don’t fight me. I wanted you for so long; I needed you for so long. Submit to me, baby, I promise I’ll be gentle.

 

Brad looked into Nate’s eyes, trying to support his words with emotions, baring his soul open before the person he cared about most, and Nate’s mood shifted, anxiety evaporating and something else, deeper, heavier, and sweeter, pouring inside his soul.  
And a second later Nate’s lips found Brad’s, hesitant at first, tentative, exploring, and then hungrily taking over the control and owning his mouth.

 

Lt twined his legs around Brad’s waist to keep better balance, his long fingers found spikes of taller man’s hair, and Iceman thought he was going to go crazy and melt away from the heat.  
He matched the lust onslaught with his own, trying to reach for Nate’s belt, when the shots rang in the distance.

 

The kiss broke apart, and when Brad tried to close in on Nate’s lips again, he was stopped by the intensive glance.

No, please, fuck this war, fuck all the hajjis, not now, not here…

But Nate’s insistent gaze made him oblige.

As always.

 

They separated and sprang towards the sound, almost crashing into Poke and Rudy in one of the hallway turns.

"Report!" - Lt shouted, and Poke shrugged in return.

 

" Weren’t us, sir."

 

Rudy towered from behind.  
"Must’ve been Q-tip and Walt."

 

Lt nodded and three men followed him in the direction of the shots.  
Soon the quartet came out in the open, on a small square surrounded by the campus library to one side and a structure that looked like an old astronomic tower from the other.

 

Q-tip was laying on the ground off the right side of the library, hiding behind the fallen column, pointing his rifle to astronomy tower’s entrance. His hands were shaking, and he looked pale as death.

 

Lt landed near him while the rest of the party assumed defensive positions around the perimeter. Brad noticed a familiar metallic smell in the air and traces of a group of people, about three or four, in the dirt. Looked like they were dragging something heavy with them, and their way was marked with tiny drops of blood.

 

" Where’s Walt?"

Q-tip faced Lt and tremble came through his body.  
"Hajis, sir, they’ve taken him! There, they’ve dragged him there! "- he started to gesticulate violently, trying to point to the tower entrance, knocking his M-4 on the stone and almost hitting Lt in the process.

Nate blocked the hit and put his hand on Q-tip’s shoulder. The younger man relaxed immediately.

 

" Calm down and tell me what happened. " The softness of Fick’s voice made Brad half-hard and terribly jealous without his content, and he silently bashed himself for unwanted reaction.

 

Q-tip took a deep breath and regained self-control.

" Hajis, sir. We were ambushed when we came around the corner. I didn’t even get a chance to shoot- they hit me hard from two sides, - but Walt- he saved my life, sir. He charged at them, knocking two of them off me, when third one…he stabbed Walt in the gut, sir. And then they dragged him away, inside the tower. I tried to stop them, I fired three rounds, but they were too fast."

 

"Understood. Q-tip,"- Nate caught the other man’s gaze and smiled supportively. "It’s going to be all right. Now tell me, how deep was Walt’s wound?"

 

Q-tip gaped, "God man, I don’t know… screwby! Shit!"

 

Suddenly an armed man appeared in a window frame on upper level of astronomy tower. Brad shouldered his rifle up and aimed, but was stopped by Lt’s voice.

" Don’t shoot! They have Walt!"

 

Hajji shouted something in Arabic, and Brad cursed under his breath.  
Where’s our dearest interpreter when we need him?

 

Nate must’ve been reading Brad’s mind, as he turned his head and shouted:  
"Rudy! Get Meesh, now!"

 

Rudy curtly nodded and charged away from the square, only to stop and turn back when another Hajji reappeared in the window and shouted in broken English:

"We want to speak with your boss!"

 

Turned out, Habudabies had an interpreter of their own.

 

Nate peeped out from his cover and barked,  
"What do you want?"

 

"Come up here, we’ll talk."

 

"We do not haggle with terrorists. "- Nate’s voice was firm, loud and authorative, echoing from the empty spaces around the square.

 

"Then your little friend will bleed to death!"

 

Brad was certain he heard Poke grinding his teeth. The mood was mutual – Brad was pissed and worried beyond belief, and if only he could come up in that tower and have a few words with those mutherfuckers…

 

"Ok, I’m coming up!"

Nate straightened up and jumped gracefully over the column.  
The marines gaped in horror, and Hajji shouted through the window.

 

" Stop! You should be unarmed! Leave your weapon and knife on the ground, so we can see them!"

Lt obliged, gently putting his M-16 on the ground, soon followed by ka bar.

 

Poke was first to react.  
" Sir, what the fuck? Don’t do that!"

Nate turned and looked at Poke.  
" I have no choice."

 

"Hell you do dawg! It’s a fucking suicide!"

 

"Are you out of your freaking mind?!" - Brad’s words sounded like a slap across the face, but there was no time to be nice.

 

"I am not going to explain my decision further, sergeant."

 

Brad came out of his cover and closed on Nate.  
" I implore you to stop and reconsider. Though your bravery is inspirational, your decision this time is somehow impetuous and may result in your untimely demise."

 

Nate seemed unfazed. Damn him and his audacious nature!

"Brad, although I adore your eloquence and linguistic abilities, this is not a good time to express you dissent. I will not lose an opportunity to save one of our men. Or would you prefer Walt to die in there when we chicken out and not use a chance to save him? Would you live with that, Brad?"

 

Awful perspective indeed, but I’d better lose Walt then you.

 

" There are at least three armed Hajjis in the building, highly trained and very efficient, and you want to go there, unarmed, without back up, just because an enemy unit asked you so?"

 

"Brad, stop it."  
Nate clearly had made a decision and hell if there was any chance to change it, Brad would take it without hesitation…

 

He would not let Nate risk his life again, especially in such a clusterfuck. He trusted Nate’s judgment and his ability to take care of himself, but in that very moment chances were too high that Nate would end up dead, and Brad won’t be able to help him- not even turn him, since he hasn’t drunk from him yet…

 

The image of Walt dead was daunting, but somehow…acceptable. Nate on the other hand…well, he simply couldn’t allow anything to happen to Fick. Not on his watch.

 

So, Brad let the glamor wear off and let his true vampiric self step into the light.  
He heard in the back how guys gaped in shock, clearly wondering why in hell their teammate has glowing blue eyes and long snow white fangs.  
He’ll deal with them later.

 

" You will not go there." - His true voice was deeper and stronger, eminating power and danger, shattering Nate’s defenses and piercing his mind. Nate gaped in shock, his eyes widened in horror.

Brad sighed.

 

To foist his will upon somebody’s mind in such barbarian manner, to crash somebody’s personality with his vampiric force is abomination of all principles. Brad would never sink that low in any other circumstances, not with his self righteousness and belief in freedom of choice…This time though, he would break his code of honor.

 

His power would rush through Nate’s resistance and force itself upon Lt’s mind. The pain would be excruciating, it would most likely cause temporary insanity and vivid hallucinations, and Nate would definitely never forget it…

 

He would look at Brad and remember pain, remember intrusion, repulsion and, finally, hatred. He would wonder where all those emotions came from, he would try to rationalize them but – there is no way to suppress subconscious. Every time he would see Brad, he won’t recognize a friend or a comrade- but a monster.

 

It was unbearable- to realize that their first true closeness was their last, that Brad would never taste Nate again, nor elicit the same emotions, same longing and lust…  
But if his eternal misery and loneliness were the price for Nate’s safety, he was willing to pay it.

 

Nate stubbornly shook his head and tried to walk away, but Brad forced him to look straight into vampire’s eyes, catching Nate’s arm, spinning him around and showing his true face again.

 

"You will NOT go there."  
He tightened his grip on Nate’s neck, not enough to shut out the oxygen, but hard enough to keep the man immobile. His power tried to push onto Nate’s mind, when unexpected happened.

 

With a blink of an eye Brad was forced face down onto the dirt, the hand he was holding Nate with twisted behind his back, and a knee pressed against his spine, pinning him to the ground, hard. He tried to move, to get free, using all his vampiric powers, but he couldn’t even shift a muscle.

Then a low menacing voice growled above his ear, heavy, cold and dripping with fury, making Brad shiver with sensation.

 

"You are WAY out of line, sergeant."

The next moment the weight disappeared from his back and he absentmindedly watched as Nate’s boots moved away from him and run into the tower.

 

Brad spitted out the sand and tried to get up, when Rudy and Poke ran down to him for assistance.

 

"Are you ok, brother?" - Rudy sounded worried, but- only worried, no fear or disgust or shock that had been written all over his face some moments ago, when Brad exposed himself.

 

Brad let himself ponder on that question when Rudy was overshadowed by Poke, who leaned as close to Brad as his ammunition allowed it.

 

"You got to admit, dawg, despite of his disorienting pussy looks; our Lt has got some iron balls in his pack."

 

Brad blazed up.  
"Roger that. But shouldn’t you two be covering his back right now instead of babysitting me?"

 

Both men glanced at him in bewilderment and then jerked up, like coming out of trance.  
Exactly one second later a noise of a struggle sounded from the tower. The marines immediately shouldered their rifles and aimed, trying to find any plausible targets.

 

About 30 seconds later two figures emerged from the shadows.

 

The dogs prepared to fire, as Nate’s voice bloke the silence.  
" Don’t shoot! It’s us!"

 

Rudy charged to the pair and helped Nate to hold Walt, who was bleeding profoundly from the abdomen, looked pale and shaken, but was somehow exited like a kid who’s got to the fair grounds for the first time.

 

"That was awesome! Lt is super! I can’t even…He was unarmed and he…he killed them with pens! Like, in a totally badass way! Shit! One pen for each one of them! And the last- the last one got the pen into his eye and the eye like. Poof! And exploded!"

 

Brad looked and Nate- and indeed, all of his pens in the breast pocket were missing.  
Otherwise Nate looked like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just single handedly apprehended three armed guerrillas. Like he didn’t give a shit that he could have died a minute ago, completely devoid of fear.

 

Un-fucking-believable.

 

"We need to get him to Doc, immediately."

 

" What about the Hajiis, sir?"

Nate turned to Rudy and smiled shyly, "They've been taken care of."

 

Poke whistled in appreciation and gave Lt a full of fatherly pride clap on a shoulder.

Then Walt suddenly got quiet and started shaking uncontrollably.

 

"He's going into shock. Let's roll, gents."

 

The marines unanimously obliged, picked Walt up by hands and legs, while Rudy dressed the wound in attempt to slow down the bleeding, and cantered back to the base.

 

The very moment Walt was handed over to Doc and prepared to case-evac, Brad strolled through the crowd and tried to corner Nate away from the wondering eyes.  
Nate just gracefully waltzed out of the trap.

" How did you do that?"  
Brad asked the blond back of the head as Nate prepared to leave.

 

" Extensive military training, sergeant."  
Lt looked a bit pissed but more tired, then anything, and his switch to official titles made Brad ache a little.

 

"You know I’m not asking about that."  
Brad slithered in between the humvees after Nate.

 

Lt abruptly turned and looked at Iceman, narrowing his eyes in anger.  
"Then what exactly are you asking about?"

 

Brad slowed down, taken aback by the soreness in Nate’s voice, but didn’t stop completely- he had to fucking know what was going on!

"How did you suppress me back there? How was it even possible?"

 

Nate shrugged and turned away.  
" I have no idea of what you are referring to."

 

Brad speed up and tried to block the way, to no avail though.  
"Bullshit, sir. You know exactly, what I’m talking about! And you better answer me, because right now you’re driving me crazy!"

 

Nate stopped dead in his tracks.  
" I’m driving you crazy? I AM DRIVING YOU CRAZY?!!!"

 

He twirled around and threw Brad back on the humvee with a force that moved a vehicle on good couple of meters. His eyes burnt emerald green with anger and the very air around the man seemed to darken and thicken with his smoldering fury.

 

When Brad’s brain overcame the first stages of confusion-shock-arousal and started to correlate the image with the only possible conclusion, he shook his head in disbelief. No fucking way could he miss that…?

 

And as if to dispel any doubts, Nate rushed onto him, catching him by the throat and baring his perfect snow white fangs in an angry snarl.

 

" I have 500 hundred years on you, child. Do you know what it means?"

 

Nate’s face was now dangerously close to Brad’s, and despite of all the logic Brad had that screamed of fear and danger, Brad found himself staring stupidly at those soft lips framing the teeth that could put any other vampire to shame.  
Nate tightened his grip and titled Brad’s face so their eyes met.

 

"That means that you had to acknowledge my presence and introduce yourself the very moment you saw me. And guess what?"

 

He let go of Brad’s neck and started gesticulating in frustration.

 

" You didn’t. I let it pass, I mean, you’ve been in military for almost 200 years and military are known for their lack of manners…  
And I couldn't even think that you- a fucking vampire and the best recon marine I've ever met- simply had no fucking idea of who or what I really am! I mean, how the hell did it happen?!"

 

Nate shrugged and looked at Brad.

 

"And then you’ve started that weird shit with fucking me in your mind, protecting me from others and even cooing me in your own Iceman manner and I though it was …I don’t know, your own odd courting ritual?  
And I have to admit, I even found it cute at some point, and accepted it and," Nate threw his hands to the sky in desperation, " I even brought you fucking presents! And then you started to get all physical and I hoped that that was it, that you finally got your shit together and were going to properly address the situation…and what did you do? You fucking lost your mind completely and tried to compel me in front of your own men! What the fuck was THAT all about?!"

 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, strolling closer to Brad.

 

"You know very well that the punishment for at least half of your behavior is death. Now, Bradley, give me one fucking plausible explanation of your shitty behavior?"

 

Brad watched the older vampire with grim fascination. Such a perfect creature, such ethereal beauty, and so lethal…That made him want Nate even more- a very dangerous thought, especially with the latter being so pissed at him at the moment…

 

Brad considered Fick, than shrugged in defeat.  
" I don’t have any plausible explanations, sir. I guess I’m just so fucking deep in love with you that I shamed myself and couldn’t even see through your glamor."

 

Nate stopped for a second and considered Brad thoroughly. Then his features relaxed and he smirked.

" Well, I guess, I can count that as a credible excuse." – He gracefully moved closer and caressed Brad’s face. His smirk suddenly widened.

 

"But you do understand that you still have to be punished?"

 

Brad opened his mouth to say something, but instead found himself bent over Nate’s knee, head down and pants falling to his feet.

Somewhere at the back of his brain Brad thought it was not really a manly position, and the whole situation was kind of…weird, but the thoughts were whipped clean when a strong hand connected hard with his naked ass, sending waves of aftershock through his buttocks and rerouting all the blood to his cock.

 

"You shell not, ever, try to compel me again."

 

Another slap.

 

"You shell not during the official meetings of any kind distract me with your obscene thoughts. And," - Nate leaned closer and whispered the last order in Brad’s ear, making him so painfully hard he could hammer in nails with his dick, " You shell never again keep me away from your beautiful ass."

 

With a final slap Brad was thrown off the knee and left on the floor, hard and panty less. He swallowed and looked up at Nate, idea forming in his head.

"Perhaps I could…make it up to you for my past …incompetence, sir?"

 

Nate arched his sand color eyebrow.  
"How exactly?"

 

It was Brad’s turn to smirk. He reached up and grabbed Nate by his belt, pulling him closer. A second later the buckle was discharged and Brad finally got access to something he wanted for quite a long time. He smiled sheepishly and licked along the hard shaft of Nate’s cock.

 

Fick gasped and let out a stiffened moan.

 

" What was that, sir? I didn’t copy."

 

Nate looked at him incredulously and Brad chuckled, oh, he would love to torture Nate a bit more, but the bright green eyes and flushed cheeks and the look so innocent and wanting…it just disarmed him completely.

 

So, he returned to his previous activity, engulfing his Lt’s cock in his mouth as deep as he could, setting up a comfortable speed, and enjoying himself, the feel of warmth and hardness and slickness in his mouth, but even more- those quiet sweet sounds Nate made with every thrust.

 

Finally, Lt gave in his self control and cupped Brad’s head in his hand, desperately thrusting forward, harder and faster, until he came hard, completely undone.

 

He leaned down then and pulled Brad into a deep kiss, licking traces of his own semen from another man’s lips and grinning happily.

 

" Next time you decide to involve me in duty unrelated activities, I suggest you choose a more secluded area, because, Brad- when I fuck you, I will take all the time I want and- I’ll make you scream, so its better be somewhere private."

 

"Your wish is my command, sir. I shell…research the place in question". - Brad cupped Nate’s face and let himself enjoy another deep, hungry, predatory kiss.

 

When he finally withdrew, Nate gaped for air and smiled, "You do that."

 

 

Ray was sorrowfully wondering around the camp, drawning in his misery. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about their Ray-ray. Walt had been case-evacked, Trombley was jerking off in the latrines, and Brad…that cold-hearted bastard simply disappeared, dissolved into thin air. The universe must have been hating him for some stupid reason, there was no other explanation for that…

 

Suddenly Ray noticed movement in the shadows near the wall, and heard rustle and some kind of weird noise that reminded him of…

" A puppy?" – Ray smiled happily and danced towards the wall.

 

"Here, puppy-puppy. Come to papa, Ray-ray will love you and take care of you and will never abandon you like all those fuckers, and…"

 

He reached for the small silver-gray puppy, hiding between the bricks, but the puppy suddenly wailed and lashed out, biting him hard on the hand.  
Ray jumped away, cursing, tried to kick the stupid dog for biting him, but the beast was already gone.

 

Ray fought back tears of insult and brought his arm up to take a better look at the bleeding wound, when he was caught in mid air by Lt, who dragged his hand up and examined it thorough fully.

 

Ray was going to inquire first of all, where the fuck did Lt and Brad came from, but shut his mouth when Nate shook his head solemnly and turned to Brad.

 

" It was a werewolf. I’m afraid, the blood is already infected. He has…a month at best before his first turn."

 

"Guys, what the fu…"

 

"Shut up, Ray. "- Brad’s serious tone sent a chill down Ray’s spine.

 

" And I hoped he would spoil my existence for a little longer."

 

Nate straightened up and let Ray’s hand go. " We still can keep him."

 

Brad considered Nate for a second, than frowned in confusion.  
" But I thought…all that stories about inter-species animosity?"

 

Nate waived him off.  
"Hollywood bullshit. Plus, I always wanted to have a puppy."


End file.
